


On the Rocks

by orphan_account



Category: Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Alcohol, Drunk!Steve, F/M, Gen, Humor, Romance, Steve finds a way to get drunk, and it's hilarious, drugged!clint, how do you feelings, neither of them have any idea, nobody is in their right mind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-07
Updated: 2013-04-07
Packaged: 2017-12-07 17:54:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/751345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“And...why is he on my couch?” she raised an eyebrow at Tony.<br/>“You did this; you deal with him.” Tony responded, pointing an accusatory, no-nonsense finger at her.<br/>“Me? What did I do? I--”<br/>“Figure it out!” Tony threw his hands up in the hair, spinning on his heel and making his way out of her room “I'm done with him for the night!”</p>
            </blockquote>





	On the Rocks

The mission had, quite frankly, gone terrible.

It started out okay, but ended with Natasha and Clint getting caught in a massive explosion, and being rushed to the medical bay for surgery before any of the other team members knew what had happened with any degree of certainty.

 

Natasha looked worse than she was, but Clint...Clint had gotten the brunt of the shrapnel; puncturing a lung and tearing some tendons. So when she woke, she stayed with him – though he was out cold from the drugs.

To her surprise, his first words upon waking were not exactly kind, per say.

“What the hell are you doing here, Nat?”

 

Natasha was irritated with herself to discover she was half-asleep; though his groan jerked her out of it. As it was, with medication swirling in her bloodstream and pain edging at the back of her mind, it took her a moment to process his words.

“Excuse me?”

 

“I said, 'what the hell are you doing here, Nat', as in; 'what the hell are you doing here'.”

 

It was post-surgery brain talking. It had to be, because he wasn't making any sense.

 

“Where else would I be, Clint?” She spoke slow and clearly, trying to jog him back into his senses.

“With Cap, maybe?” his tone was heavy and clumsy with the weight of how much he was trying to force her to see how _obvious_ that was.

 

Definitely the post-surgery brain talking.

 

“...uh-huh.”

 

He hadn't lost his ability to read her, however, and heard the disbelief in her tone.

“Dear God, Nat. Are you guys going to dance around it forever? Someone could _drown_ in the tension between you two.”

 

Okay, she would admit, Natasha did like Steve. He was polite and capable and treated her with respect but still recognized her abilities. He was a breath of fresh air; endearing and naive and trusting and _damn_ he was a looker –- but she was getting off track now.

 

“Clint, you're my partner. I'm not going to leave you just because--”

Clint cut her off loudly.

“He's blaming himself! You know he is!”

Natasha stared at him, and he raised his eyebrows at her.

“In fact,” Clint mused “He may not even know if you're okay. _He may think you're dead, Nat_.” His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper.

 

She would not miss it in the least when the medications wore off of him.

 

He locked his eyes with hers in an intent attempt at persuasion.

Natasha was not easily persuaded.

 

“If you don't leave,” he spoke, heavy with finality “I am going to rip out my IV, and stab you with it.”

The IV that was supplying him with whatever medicine that, while it was making him absolutely loopy, was probably holding him together at this point.

“What are you, a child?”

 

He reached for his arm.

 

“Fine. Fine! I'm leaving.” She lifted her hands in defeat, shaking her head.

 

Standing was a bit of a chore, and for a moment Natasha was going to black out.

She looked down at Clint to see if that made him change his mind.

He flapped his hands at her in a shooing motion. She snorted.

 

This was ridiculous.

* * *

Cap was indeed blaming himself.

Again.

And again, and again, and again.

 

“I dunno, I mean I _think_ she likes me but I'm not _sure_. I like her. I'm pretty sure about that. I like her a lot. Man, have you seen her smile? I can't even _think_ when she smiles.” Steve sighed heavily “Do you think she's dead? What if she's dead? I didn't even take her out. Not even once.”

 

Tony groaned.

It was going to be a long night.

 

“It doesn't even matter if she isn't dead, she's always with Clint. Are they lovers? Does anyone actually know what they are to each other? Anybody?”

 

Tony had mainly tuned the rambling out by now; and it took him a minute to realize it had stopped completely.

 

Steve was sprawled forward across the bar.

“Com'n, Cap, time to go.”

* * *

Natasha had just gotten into her room, happy with the familiarity, when there was a knock on the door, soft and irregular, as though the person outside couldn't fully get to the door.

She was right.

Tony was struggling to support a mainly limp Steve, who he immediately dragged inside and deposited unceremoniously on her couch.

“I think this is yours.”

 

Steve hadn't been injured, he'd been fine last she saw him.

“Is he--?”

“Drunk? Yes.”

Natasha shot Tony a bewildered look.

Steve's metabolism was too fast for him to get drunk; alcohol had no effect on the super soldier.

“After you and Clint went to the medical bay, he got into a sparring match with Thor.” Tony commented by way of explanation.

“That turned into a drinking match. Apparently Asgardian mead is a lot stronger than whatever we have here on Earth.”

Well, that accounted for half of it.

“And...why is he on my couch?” she raised an eyebrow at Tony.

“You did this; you deal with him.” Tony responded, pointing an accusatory, no-nonsense finger at her.

“Me? What did I do? I--”

“Figure it out!” Tony threw his hands up in the hair, spinning on his heel and making his way out of her room “I'm done with him for the night!”

 

Natasha cast a wary glance at the limp form on her couch.

It was apparently the consensus that they had some things between them to work out, but she wasn't sure exactly how to do that.

Especially since he had apparently worked very hard at getting absolutely smashed.

 

She moved to the kitchen and started up some coffee.

He was going to need it.

 

A slurred voice from the living room had her walking back out to where Steve was slumped.

“Do you know...” he said, tongue struggling to form the syllables “How long it's been... since I was drunk...?”

Fairly certain the question was rhetorical, she said nothing.

“It has been, _so_ long. _Years_.... A lot of years....I missed it, you know. Even when I was frozen, it was awful that I couldn't get drunk. _Especially_ then.”

Natasha had the feeling that this would be extremely amusing when she thought about it later.

Currently, however, she was in a slight state of shock.

A drunken Steve was something she hadn't ever expected to ever encounter. Already, it seemed like it was wearing off; his voice getting clearer the more he spoke.

 

She moved around the back of the couch to assess his condition and he squinted up at her.

“You're much too pretty to be Tony.” he mumbled, confused.

That coaxed a smile to her lips.

“I thought you were dead,” he continued, sitting up and blinking away the disorientation before biting back a curse and cradling his head in his hands, wincing.

“I thought you couldn't get drunk.” she said in return, sitting on the ottoman in front of him “I guess we were both wrong.”

Steve opened his eyes, trying hard to focus on her.  
“Can I be wrong about something else?”

 _That_ was an odd request. She raised her eyebrows expectantly.

“Are you... I mean, are you and Clint... Do you--?”

He tripped over everything he said, but Natasha thought she knew what he was saying. That familiar warm, appraising sensation – affection, she realized – tingled through her.

_Oh, what the hell._

In response, she leaned forward to place a hand on one cheek, and kiss the other, pulling back to smile at him softly.

 

Steve looked at her, stunned into impassivity before swallowing hard.

“Do you want to have dinner sometime?”

Her smile grew wider.

“Yeah. I'd like that.”

**Author's Note:**

> A quick fluff to cushion me before I embark on a big ol' multi-chap dramafeelingsmessAUcrossoveridon'tevenfreakingknow (...that's called foreshadowing, friends!)
> 
> As always, thanks to Lucy for beta.


End file.
